This is one of those things that I really only wrote for myself, and didn't start writing it with the intention of posting it online for all to see. It'll be updated as I see fit... this first bit took several months, so don't hold your breath.

02.01.09 update: I made a playlist consisting of all the songs I used for chapter titles. I'll update it as I post chapters: www -dot- myflashfetish -dot- com -forward slash- playlist -forward slash- 17937729

Three days ago was when Astrid ran out of food, and in between the painful delirium and numbing bouts of unconsciousness, she was seriously beginning to feel it. Her stomach had stopped growling some six hours before, but she could feel the acid churn. But aside from not being able to reach the main compartment of her backpack because of the weight of the rocks and her position, she was glad that it remained on her back as it's aluminum frame had prevented the rocks from crushing her for the most part when the avalanche hit. She hadn't been able to feel her legs for four days now, but the fear concerned with that was nothing compared to the terror that rose up in her throat when she considered it was very possible -and probable- that she would die out here.

Was she really going to die? Alone and lost somewhere in the remote northeastern area of California? Her family probably reported her missing maybe the day before, which meant that search and rescue teams were combing the mountains from Lake Tahoe to Yosemite. It was a hopeless search; the square miles for them to cover were just too many.

Astrid once again found herself fighting unconsciousness. The struggle to free herself from the pile of rocks and debris grew weaker every day, and by now she had all but given up. As much as she would have liked to just fall asleep and die, she knew very well that the cause would be dehydration and starvation, and her last moments would be pure agony.

Another long day passed, littered with bouts of sleep. Evening settled around her in patronizing silence. Somewhere off in the distance she could make out, through the undulations of her own failing system, the sound of a helicopter. It took a few minutes for her brain to register, but before long she was able to comprehend the situation enough to lift her head and call for help.

Her voice was not her own. It was weak and hoarse, not nearly loud enough to be heard over the helicopter. Just that simple exertion of energy seemed to deplete what stores she had, and Astrid let her head fall back down again, eyelids heavy. Astrid was able to discern a noise to her right that sounded much like a car, but she felt too weak to pay it much attention. But when what might have been headlights came surging down the hillside from the trail above, one last burst of energy allowed her to say: “I'm over here.”

She closed her eyes then and rested her head. A strange sound greeted her ears and she heard footfalls despite the helicopter drawing nearer. Astrid distantly felt weight being lifted from her back and legs, and what might have been many hands -or perhaps two large ones?- grasp her firmly and yank her out of the debris.

A very strange voice wove through the static in her brain. “Let's get you out of...” But that was all she vaguely heard before passing out.

Finally, she could get some sleep.

--

Astrid was able to hear her own wheezing breaths, slow and steady, as she woke up. Her vision was blurry, but she recognized the face of a doctor hovering about, a clipboard in hand.

“Astrid!” A shriek from her left caused her to turn her head, a pain shooting down her neck.

“M...om?”

The woman beside the bed burst into tears as she fawned over her daughter. “Oh my god, you're alright!” The young woman weakly battled her mother away and groaned.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Schneider, but your daughter needs to rest,” the doctor said.

“Oh, right. Of course.”

Astrid adjusted herself in the hospital bed, attempting to sit up, but a pain and stiffness in her legs prevented it. “What... happened?”

The doctor set his clipboard under his arm, clicking the ballpoint pen in his hand a few times. “The tibia and fibula of your right leg are broken, both your ankles are sprained, and your right hip got a pretty good bruising.” He sighed. “And you suffered from some severe dehydration. We had to reintroduce liquids to your system gradually.”

Lo and behold, she found her right leg was in a cast, her left ankle bound tightly, and an IV sticking out of the crook of her elbow.

“When can I go?”

“You'll be fit for release in two days at best. I'd suggest you buy a wheelchair and crutches from a medical supply store, (there's one on Irving and Harper), and when you're on your own two feet again, I'll send you for physical therapy.”

Astrid's mother, Tracy, nodded exuberantly.

The doctor pulled a syringe out of his front coat pocket, flicked it once, and injected it into the IV line. Astrid watched him. “Morphine?” she asked, smiling weakly.

The doctor chuckled. “Enough to take the edge off. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go check up on another patient right now. I'll be back in a few hours?”

Astrid nodded. The doctor was about to leave the room when she stopped him. “Wait, one more question.” He halted mid-step. “Who brought me to the hospital?” She knew the obvious answer would have been the search and rescue team that found her, but some strange, vague memory kept her from believing it.

“Well... I wasn't there, but I heard from the guys down in the ER that you were brought down in a military Jeep, and the team was following it. Apparently the driver didn't talk at all, and as soon as they got you out of the car, he drove away.” The doctor shrugged. “At least you made it here.”

The doctor left, closing the door behind him slowly. Astrid's mom perked up again. “Really? A Jeep?” It was whispered as though it were gossip. “I wonder why that could be.”

Astrid closed her eyes again to sleep, and sighed. “I don't know,” she breathed. “I think I've heard of it before, though. Hikers... stuck in the wilderness... and... search teams. One of them driving a Jeep.”

Tracy took her daughter's hand and squeezed tightly. “I am so glad you're safe,” she said. Astrid grunted lightly and nodded her head. The morphine was beginning to kick in, and she couldn't help but begin to fall asleep. “You gave everyone such a big scare.” She could hear her mother start to cry again. There was another tight squeeze, and the hand was removed. Tracy sniffled. “I'm going to go see about that medical store while you rest. I'll be back in a bit.”

--

A week had gone by since Astrid was released from hospital custody. She was on leave from her job as a guide at Adventures Inc. indefinitely, and against the wishes of her parents and sister, returned home to her house on the outskirts of South Lake Tahoe instead of staying with family in Sacramento.

The day Astrid was released she began to get calls from journalists and news people for interviews about her story, and (complying with the wishes of her parents and sister) did a single phone interview for the town paper.

What began to eat away at her though, was the fact that she never was able to thank the person that saved her, or even see their face. She tried doing some internet research in her now copious amounts of spare time, but nothing more turned up except for a few stories of other hikers lost in the California wilderness who mention a Jeep involved in their rescue, only confirming what little she already knew. Just when she thought to give up and focus on recovering from her injuries, she received an email one day from someone under the alias “The Green Machine”:

Hey there Astrid,

Just wanted to follow up and make sure you're all right.

-The Green Machine

The message, though friendly, seemed cryptic. Who the hell was this person? She pondered for the entire day whether or not to reply, but curiosity got the best of her, and she finally, cautiously, began to write back.

TGM-

I'm doing just fine now. Been better, though.

But... who are you exactly? How'd you get my email address?

- A. Schneider

She had planned on going to bed after sending the email, but a reply came fast. Eerily fast. In fact, according to the time logs, she received another message from The Green Machine 38 seconds later.

Astrid,

I'm very glad to hear it! They say you'd have been deactivated in a few more hours, but... better late than never, right?

Oh! Well, since you asked, I guess I should tell you. Name's Hound. You probably don't remember, but I pulled you out of the debris. And about finding out your email, well... wonderful thing the internet is, right?

At any rate, I'm happy to hear you're doing much better. Good luck on any future trips you might take!

-Hound

Astrid couldn't tell if she was relieved, or creeped out even more. She asked for his name, and he gave her another alias. She asked how he knew her, and he claimed to be part of the search and rescue team. This Hound didn't seem to be with the press at all... was he a stalker? He wasn't asking for any personal information or anything like that, though. After spending some time puzzling over the situation, she decided to sleep on it.

She had to admit, sleeping was a pain in the ass when you had a cast on. And god forbid she needed to use the restroom in the middle of the night, seeing as how it took so long to get in and out of her wheelchair. But aside from that, the emails kept her up even with the Vicodin she took before bed. When Astrid couldn't take much more staring at the ceiling, she scrambled into her chair and wheeled over to the desk. She reread over his last email, and was thrown a bit by his choice of wording... deactivated? Astrid didn't really know what to make of it, but began to reply anyways.

Hound,

So... what you're trying to say is that you... saved me? From the avalanche? That was you, for real?

So if that was you, why don't you tell me your real name?

-Astrid

She wheeled away to make a cup of coffee, returning to her computer about five minutes later with a hot mug full of delicious caffeine. Again, there was already a brief reply.

Well... yes... it was me. And I did tell you! My name is Hound.

Astrid blinked. That was his real name?

Well Hound, thank you for saving me. I owe you my life. Honestly.

Not twenty seconds after she hit the send button was there a reply. Was this guy just sitting in front of his computer waiting for her to email him? It was like he was sending her messages as fast as he thought them up.

No, there's no reason to thank me. I was just doing my civic duty.

Astrid started to type again.

There must be something I can do. I would feel horribly guilty if I went without repaying you somehow. How about lunch on me? I'll meet you somewhere.

And 9 seconds later:

That's totally unnecessary. Helping humans is payment enough for me.

The woman blinked, and reread the message as though it would help her make more sense of it somehow. Yet again, his choice of words was puzzling, to say the least. Part of her became really curious about this character, and just how he became to be part of a No Cal WSAR unit. And so 6 minutes and 20 seconds later:

Nonsense. I'll meet you at the diner on Pine, Sunday at one.

After that, there was no reply.

Astrid really wanted to know who this was that had saved her. So far, the pieces didn't quite add up. Well, what few small pieces she had to work with at least. And despite the constant calls from her family to check up on her, she elected not to tell them what she had planned in two days.

And due to her being almost unable to leave the house, those two days passed painfully slow, without another word from her bizarre and anonymous correspondent. Astrid was able to get a co-worker, Eli, to drive her to the restaurant that day.

“Give me a call when you're done, all right?”

He helped her out of the van, into her chair, and she proceeded to wheel inside. The waitress, recognizing Astrid from a photo in the newspaper, offered her a free meal. The woman politely declined the offer.

“I'm actually waiting for someone,” she said. “But I'll have some water.” Water was brought, and Astrid waited.

In fact, she waited for half an hour, before sighing to herself and thinking just how crazy she was for getting herself into this situation. Maybe the cabin-fever was getting to her, and just as was her nature, Astrid was not content with sitting around doing nothing. After all... her affinity for the outdoors was what had gotten her injured to begin with, and now that she couldn't go out and do the things she loved, she had to go looking for a different kind of adventure. Astrid huffed as she picked up her phone and called Eli.

“Your lunch date bailed out on you?” Eli asked as he loaded up Astrid's wheelchair in the back of his van.

She shrugged, even though she knew he couldn't see it. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He got into the driver's seat, closed the door, and started up the car. “Did you eat?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Well, wanna do a drive-through?”

“I like that idea.”

With that, they rumbled off in the old bucket in the direction of a Burger King. As they pulled away from the curb, Astrid caught glimpse of a Jeep parked behind them in the rear view mirror.

“You're awfully quiet,” Eli prodded gingerly.

Astrid raised her eyebrow for a moment before bobbing her head from side to side. “Eh, just... tired. Didn't sleep well last night.”

“Ah,” he nodded as they pulled into the drive-thru. “Whaddya want?”

She only glanced at the menu as an intelligible voice rasped through the speaker. “Just a number nine with Sierra Mist, thanks.”

They ordered, drove up, paid, received their food, and returned to Astrid's house, where they ate their late lunch over some small talk. Eli tried to find out who she planned on having lunch with, but she refused to reveal who. He had to return to work at 3, so there was no time to stay and hang out after lunch. At twenty to three, he left, but not before making sure she didn't need anything.

Astrid found herself with a cup of coffee, looking out of the glass double doors that led to a tiny backyard, pushed up against the forest. It was somewhat of a myth that California didn't have any wildlife left, but that really only applied to those hooligans in the Southern Californian urban sprawl. She'd seen bears tromping around in the woods beyond the fence plenty of times before, not to mention deer, and an assortment of other critters. Astrid sat and sipped, listening to Bob Marley's greatest hits playing softly in the background and wondering what movies in her collection she hadn't watched yet.

But suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

The woman set down her coffee and turned herself around for a moment before wheeling over to the door. If this was just another journalist, she refused to answer. Astrid maneuvered over to the nearest window and peeked out. A gasp escaped her lips and she pulled the shade closed again when she saw a military Jeep parked in the driveway.

Wh-... how? What?

Astrid wiped her face and ran a hand through her short hair. This was just crazy. But then again, she really did get herself into this. A deep breath, and Astrid reached into the mug on the console, producing an envelope opener. It was slipped under her knee; just in case. With that, she opened the door.

“Can I-” Astrid cut herself off when she saw the landing was absent of a visitor, and it also appeared that the Jeep was empty. Who had knocked? She wheeled out over the threshold, glancing about the property. “Hello?”

“Hey, uhm... Astrid.” The woman jumped in her wheelchair when she heard the voice. It was strange- mechanized, almost, and seemed to come from the unoccupied vehicle.

Astrid's eyes darted around a few more times. “Y..yes?” She risked wheeling out a bit more onto the walkway towards the car. “Uhm, why... why are you hiding?” It occurred to her who she was talking to. “Hound, right?”

“Oh, I'm not hiding. Well, not really.”

Astrid knitted her eyebrows, staring at the car with puzzled scrutiny. “Well, come out of the car, then. I can't legitimately thank you if I don't know where you are.”

“But I'm right here.” And to prove his point, he turned the wheels of the Jeep back and forth a bit on the gravel of the driveway. Still, there was no driver as far as she could tell.

“Now you're just screwing with me. Look, you can come in for some coffee if you stop playing coy. I don't understand why you're so shy now, especially if you're with WSAR...”

“Well... alright.”

Astrid was expecting a man to straighten up in the cab of the Jeep, laugh to himself and step out, but that's not what happened. In fact, it's far from what happened. Astrid couldn't quite explain it, but the car transformed. Legs appeared, arms appeared, the cab split up and arranged into a torso, and finally a head popped out. “I told you I wasn't really hiding.”

Astrid's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “You...” she stumbled. “You're one of those Autobots, aren't you?”

He shrugged, and a grin spread across his white, metallic face, blue optic sensors gleaming. “ And proud of it.”

“Wow... well that certainly explains some things.” She paused for a moment to look around again. “Why don't you come around back? I understand that you guys don't like to stick out like sore thumbs.”

“Well, sure.”

She watched in fascination as he turned and squeezed between the garage and the house to get to the backyard before turning on her wheels and going back inside. Pausing just as she closed the front door, Astrid chuckled to herself when she remembered the envelope opener under her leg. It was returned to it's place alongside pens and pencils in the mug, its use now totally null.

She maneuvered about the house until she was back to where was before answering the door, mug still steaming a bit where she set it on the dining table. Astrid took a good, long sip before setting it down again and opening wide the two back doors. Hound took to sitting down on the ground. She might've objected to that if the grass wasn't mostly comprised of patches of dirt, weeds, and crab-grass. He was idly picking at something at some joint in his hand. Astrid just began to realize that she didn't really know what she was doing, or what to say.

Quite frankly, she was surprised that she wasn't in hysterics. After all, she'd been hours from death when this... individual saved her.

“Would you... like some water? Or... uhm... oil? Antifreeze? Whatever it is you guys drink?”

Hound laughed politely and raised his hand in declination. “No, I'm alright. I don't think you'd have any Energon around.”

“No,” Astrid smiled. “Not in this house.”

An awkward silence passed.

“Look, I... wasn't really expecting this. You. I thought you were...”

“Human?”

“Well, yeah.” Astrid tapped the chrome rails on the wheels of her chair. “I'm really sorry. I know I've heard about your group before, but I've never actually seen one of you, or ever expected to see one of you, face to face. I know people in LA or San Diego might not be so surprised to see one of you, but I'm not so good with machines, and things that city-slickers see every day still usually merit a second glance from me. It's like finding the pope in my backyard... definitely not something I would expect to ever see. What brought you to rural northern California anyways?”

Hound seemed to genuinely find what she had to say interesting, or at least he appeared to be as interested as a machine could be. Astrid found it extremely difficult to comprehend that the Autobots were actually autonomous and sentient robots with a range of thoughts and emotions suspiciously similar to that of a human's. Coming from a very green, outdoorsy background, she found it to be extremely unnatural.

“I was driving east from San Fransisco because Optimus wanted Beachcomber and I stationed in Yellowstone to keep tabs on the caldera there, and I heard on the radio that a young woman had gone missing while on a backpacking trip from Tahoe to Yosemite, so I volunteered to take a detour and help. It was a hard search, but once we saw the avalanche, I knew we'd found you.”

Astrid listened in silence, and said nothing when he was done. She began to imagine things from his point of view, then; images that she hadn't until that point allowed herself to entertain. The trail, the avalanche, the debris piled up at the bottom of that narrow valley, and Astrid's broken body sticking out of the bottom of it, hand clutching an empty water bottle. She remembered the blood covering her arms and face, caked especially thick on her cheek and forearms. She remembered horror settling into her gut as she groped for the last bag of trail mix within reach. But perhaps most distinctly she remembered the weight of the rocks on top of her. After a while it became more than just a pile of rocks, it evolved into a symbol, a metaphor. It represented the weight of bearing the knowledge that she was going to die an agonizing death, or the imposing mass obstructing her path to freedom. Each and every stone pressed down on her as though taunting, daring her to try and reach the other compartments of her pack buried hopelessly under their weight, the compartments containing food to stave off oblivion just a little longer.

A lump of the likes she'd never felt before amassed in her throat and her eyes burned with sudden tears as she, for the first time, recalled just what had happened. How... just like that, the very wilderness she had so adored, nearly took her life.

The silent sobs that had so suddenly taken hold of Astrid caused her to slump in her wheelchair. For a moment, the world around her, Hound included, disappeared. Any sense of narcissism, or shame, or any other superficial dramatics that might garnish one's consciousness, was completely absent as Astrid wept for herself.

“Hey there...” the voice, though inhuman, somehow managed to retain a certain warmth. A large, five-fingered, articulated hand that should have weighed almost thirty pounds rested lightly on her shoulder. The lack of any other words was cause for her to open her eyes and look at a kneeling Hound, who seemed to be unable to actually conjure up anything else to say.

After what might have very well been forever, Astrid regained her composure and wiped her eyes with a sleeve. “I'm... I'm sorry,” she said in that slightly groggy, post-cry manner. “I don't really know much about you Autobots, but I'm sure that was more awkward for you than it was for me.” The woman forced a smile.

The mech had moved his hand a few moments before, and the sad frown that was previously upon his face was now replaced with a small, soft, smile. “Though there are still many human behaviors beyond my understanding, I know why people cry, Astrid.”

She gazed down at her hands, sighing. Her eyes still felt puffy. “I think would have given you a hug if either of us were fit for the job.” The comment was both in reference to Hound's dimensions and her being unable to stand.

“Right,” he seemed to reverently reply. “Primus, that must be terrible to be stuck in a thing like that when all you've known your whole life is how to walk upright.”

Astrid let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, well... if anything, it's hard on my hands, and I'll be on crutches in a few days. Some people are completely paralyzed from the waist down, and they're in a wheelchair for the rest of their life.” She thought she heard him mutter something along the lines of 'like Chip' then, but she wasn't sure. “But I mean, using wheels as well as legs is just second nature to you, isn't it?”

Hound seemed to consider this. “In a sense... but it is somewhat of a learned ability. Kind of like...” he paused here, most likely searching for a human equivalent. “Kind of like when you learn how to swim, right?”

The woman nodded, understanding what he was trying to say. “Pretty much. But we don't need to rearrange our bodies in order to swim, though.”

Her companion went from kneeling to sitting then, and his smile spread. “No, you don't. But it's still a completely different way of moving.”

She considered this. “You're right. Walking is a continuous breaking of a fall, and swimming is propelling yourself through water, almost always horizontally and using all four limbs rather than two.”

“Now that's the one thing very few of us can do,” he said. “Swim.”

--

The two continued to chat for some time. They flitted between the subject of Bob Marley, which played unobtrusively in the background for the next half hour or so, to Astrid's aching arms, to Hound's function as an Autobot scout. It was a humble duty as he rarely found himself on the front lines, but he treasured the freedom it gave. Being stationed in Yellowstone was, in fact, quite possibly one of the best things to happen to Hound since the beginning of the war.

Astrid compared it to her own job as a mountaineering guide: it's not work if you love what you do.

“You know,” she said, studying what to her was an alien, mechanical body. “I didn't think any of you could... appreciate nature.” He knew the woman sensed she was treading on potentially dangerous ground, but the statement meant no offense to him.

Hound folded his arms over his chest and looked down at her. “It's very much the same as a human's capacity to affiliate with, say, personal computers. Or those little vacuum cleaners that people like to think of as pets.”

“Roombas?”

“Yeah, like Roombas.” He paused here for an astrosecond. “And isn't everything in the natural world, including yourself, a machine in a sense? You're a biological machine, just like these trees, your feline companion, and the entire ecosystem of this region. This planetary system, this galaxy, are cosmic machines. We are all machines... I just happen to be a technological one.”

“A very smart one, too,” she said. “You like thinking about this stuff, don't you?”

Hound averted his eyes and rubbed his fingers against the plating on the back of his head. “Well, I uh... you know... I've got lots of time to myself and all...”

Astrid laughed. “It's alright, I do the same thing. Nature is my life, and it definitely gives me time to think. I know some people don't like when they have time to continuously mull over things because it usually ends in depression, but it gives me peace of mind.”

The mech considered this. “Me too. I know of some 'bots that wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they actually had time to think.” He paused for a moment, then broke out in a light chuckle. “In fact, I could name a few 'bots that seem to have forgotten how to think.”

Astrid snorted. “Can't we all.”

The two remained for a few moments in what almost felt like a contented silence between them. Birds of a dozen different genera sang their staccato melodies from hidden places in the trees about Astrid's house, and after a while, it might have occurred to both of them that the sudden quietude was being deliberately maintained.

It was then that temporarily handicapped woman noted, upon a longer, less schematic sweep of the mechanoid seated on her lawn, that the two glossy panels some inches below the bright olive of his helmet, were not as she thought she remembered them. And without such respiratory obligations as a human, it was difficult to tell... but it seemed to her that he was “off”, if that was at all possible for an organism like Hound.

The world was suddenly made of glass; a hundred times Astrid opened her mouth to speak, but only the last time did any of the words make a sound. “Are you alright?” she ventured, almost sure the glass would break under the weight of her cumbersome ignorance. Eyes, listless as of late, roved around the sleek contours of his face.

His eyes woke up. Binocular optic sensors, previously a silky, lifeless gray, came to life. A short look at her and Hound's faintly luminous eyes turned to the glass world around them. “I was just listening to the birds.”

The glass melted away, revealing trees, chainlink fence, weeds, haphazardly set pavers, garage, and house. She smiled and ran a hand through her hair. “It's why I love it up here. Couldn't stand living in Sacramento, even if it meant being close to family.” A pause here, though it was not meant to last forever. “It's been real hard not being able to do anything outdoors for the past two weeks,” she lamented, her voice softening, as though she'd been defeated. “And it's going to be months before I can hike again.”

Hound thought here. “How about you and I go investigate some back roads tomorrow.” Then he grinned. “I'll drive?”

“Really? I thought you needed to be in Wyoming with... with...”

“Beachcomber? Oh, he'll be alright for a little longer. He likes being alone anyways.”

It was something of an unconscious sense of relief that came over her then. Astrid was being freed from her prison. Even if she would be on somewhat of a leash, and only for a few hours.

“You... would do that for me?”

Hound knelt in a bit closer, loosely weaving his large fingers together. “I want to set you down the course of feeling better,” he stated, as though it was the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. “And I seem to like the outdoors as much as you, so it's absolutely no problem. I'd love to go.”

Either the wheelchair seemed a little unstable, or the cement slab of a back porch she was positioned on was uneven. Regardless of which, though, Astrid felt it necessary to reach for the rails on her wheels and hold them slackly.

“Thank you very much, Hound. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

The smile, though lessened at times, never fully disappeared over the past few minutes. “I think I may. What time should I pick you up?”

“I, uh... ten?” Far less than composed. “Can I bring music?”

“Of course. It'll give me a chance to try out my new CD player.”

Astrid laughed dumbly. “All right then. Ten it is?”

“Ten it is.”

She watched in thinly veiled wonder as he rose up on a pair of legs as tall as her, were she able to stand. He treaded lightly when exiting the backyard, flashing one more benign grin before disappearing behind the house. As soon as he was out of sight, Astrid turned on her wheels and headed back into the house with the first burst of adrenaline she'd felt since the avalanche. Dodging furniture with something just short of expert maneuverability, Astrid raced back to the forefront of her house to peek through the window by the door, just catching the tail end of Hound's transformation back into Jeep. Without a second to spare, he'd started his engine and was carefully heading down the driveway.

Astrid turned from the pane of glass and sat in her chair. The house seemed very dark and quiet just then; not foreboding, but like it was holding its breath. The sun had almost gone down, and the world outside was growing darker as well. She would have to turn on some lights or risk being swallowed by the pitch. The young woman considered going to sleep, but she knew it would take all too long to succumb to the blissful oblivion.

And with that in mind, she wheeled over to the living room and to her music collection. Turning on a single side lamp, Astrid perused the spines of the jewel cases, plucking out one: James Taylor's Greatest Hits.

James would help her figure out what had just happened, and hopefully calm her down.